


A Ghoul's Journal

by Zylo



Series: Moments In Time [6]
Category: Atop the Fourth Wall
Genre: Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 07:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zylo/pseuds/Zylo
Summary: Before there was Moarte, there was a young man named Bernard.





	A Ghoul's Journal

_Entry One - 1800_

  
I don't really know where to start so I'll just introduce myself. My name is Bernard and I was given this journal today as a birthday gift from my parents. In past years, I've been excited to grow older but now that I am eighteen, Father wants me to join the local guard. You see, we live in a farming community called Rivercrest, it's a decently sized place but it's also miles away from the other communities.  There is only one road that leads out of Rivercrest and come night fall, bandits swarm there like flies, daring anyone to try and leave.  
After the first few times, everyone wised up but unfortunately, so did they. The bandits would threaten and rob anyone that tried traveling to the community during night. Anyone that tried to leave would be forced to pay a toll, lest they wanted to incur the bandits' wrath. Because of them, Rivercrest has come up with the idea to form a local guard that would train in secret. Everyone hopes that it will be enough to free us all.  
Honestly, I don't think it will work. I can't explain why but I just have a bad feeling about this eventual battle.  
  
 _Entry Two_

  
This is only my second entry and already I've fallen behind with writing.  
It's been two weeks since the first entry. Father is still trying to get me to join the local guard although he's started to relent a bit thanks to Mother. I only found this out by accident, I overheard them talking one night upon arriving back home. Apparently Mother feels the same as I do about it.  
As for where I was, I met someone today. He was a short, strange fellow dressed up in black robes and was carrying an odd-looking book with him. Introducing himself, he told me that his name was Grayson the Great, a traveling magician. I'll admit, I was skeptical of what he was telling me. A book of spells? Real magic? I will also admit that he proved me wrong.   
The things he showed me were incredible! He summoned a crow out of thin air, caused items to levitate with a few words, and even walked into a cloud of smoke, disappearing. A second later, he reappeared in another cloud of smoke right behind me! As astonishing as it was, he insisted that all he showed was beginer's work.   
  
_Entry Three_

  
I've met up with Mr. Grayson again. He was in the fields, entertaining all who stopped by. It was a small show, but amazing none the less. After the crowd dispersed, I greeted him, curious to see if he needed any help gathering up his props. It was then that I was asked a rather out of nowhere question. He wanted to know if I had any interest in learning how to perform magic!  
Imagine! Me as a magician? As striking as the idea is, I don't know...  
Mr. Grayson told me to think it over, that he would be in Rivercrest for a while longer yet. Mother and Father would surely have a fit if I agreed; Father believes Mr. Grayson to be nothing more than a lying swindler while Mother thinks that his magic is dark in nature. However, given the choice between joining the local guard and learning magic...

* * *

  
  
_Entry 20_

  
I now firmly believe that learning magic was the best of the two choices. Mr. Grayson has been so proud of how quickly I've learned so much. He told me that when he first met me, he sensed magical potential in me. If he told me that when I first met him, I would have scoffed and walked away. Now though...now it's an entirely different story.  
Speaking of stories, the local guard finally went through with their plan to fight the bandits. The bandits were caught off guard and driven away. Everyone in Rivercrest has been celebrating, although my Father less so since he still wishes that I had joined them.  Mother, on the other hand, isn't celebrating at all. She insists that the bandits will be back for revenge.  
Mr. Grayson agrees with Mother's thoughts. He's had his own run-ins with the worst of the worst and, according to him, they don't give up so easily.  
  
 _Entry 25_

  
Mr. Grayson, Mother, they were both right. The bandits came by in the middle of the night with torches and swords. Our house was one of the first to be attacked. The last I saw of Father, he was holding the front door closed while our enemies tried to break through. He told Mother and I to run upstairs, break the windows to escape.

  
I dragged Mother with me but she was hysterical, even more so once smoke started to follow us up the stairs. Mother kept insisting that we needed to go back for Father, that she wouldn't leave without him. Trying to tell her that Father would be alright did nothing to help, we both knew that it was a lie. She broke free from my hand and ran down the stairs; I tried to give chase but in that moment, the roof started to collapse. Burning wood fell between me and the rest of the stairway, leaving nowhere for me to go but up.

  
It was getting harder to see with each passing moment. Blindly, I grabbed one of mother's vases and threw it at the nearest window. It was then I made my escape. Landing on the ground hurt more than I thought it would but I pushed myself to start running as fast as I could. I didn't know where I was going, just that I had to get away.

  
At some point, I must have lost consciousness because the next thing I remember was waking up in an unfamiliar bed. To my surprise, Mr. Grayson was there, sitting next to me in a rocking chair. When he noticed I was awake, he began to tell me what had happened. According to him, he found me in the fields, my hands bloody and one of my legs injured. It was then he made the decision to use his magic to bring me to his home.

  
I asked him if he had seen my Mother or Father, asked him what happened to the folks of Rivercrest. The look on his face was the only answer I got and it was the only one I needed. Rivercrest, my home, my parents... _all gone._

* * *

  
_Entry 107 - 1802_

  
Mr. Grayson told me that I've come a long way from when I first started learning magic. Awhile ago, he asked me if I wanted to join his magic act at some point. I think I'll take him up on that offer. I've also thought up a stage name for myself - " _Moarte the Magnificent_ ".

  
_Entry 110_

  
Our first show together was a success! Grayson the Great and Moarte the Magnificent! Mr. Grayson says that the future is looking bright and I'm inclined to agree with him. Seeing the looks of amazement from the crowd and hearing their cheering was thrilling! If my parents were here, I'm sure they would be cheering as well...

* * *

  
_Entry 200 - 1806_

  
Mr. Grayson has been acting odd lately. He's been much quieter than usual and he's been staying up late into the night. I've asked him about it but he just brushes it off and says that I need to focus on our next big performance. He wants it to be something no one will ever forget, something that will both scare and delight.  
That's something else I noticed. He's been leaning toward the more macabre aspects of magic recently. He claims that it's what current audiences want to see, that they want it to brighten up their lives if only for a small while. The dark being used to brighten something? How absurd.

  
_Entry 201_

  
I found an odd box in Mr. Grayson's prop room tonight. Yes, my parents taught me not to go snooping around other people's things but this was one of the few times recently where he hasn't been cooped up in there. When I walked in there, I felt the sensation of something pulling me in the box's direction. The lid was off and I could see stories upon stories of a dark nature. This is what was stealing Mr. Grayson's time and attention from his life?

  
_Entry 202_

  
I questioned Mr. Grayson about the box. Never once had I ever seen him so angry before. His eyes looked as if fire was buring in them, his voice was loud and intimidating, and his grip on my shoulders were like iron. He warned me to stay out of his room and away from the box, that the box was of no concern to me and to mind my own business. My attempts to reason with him fell on deaf ears and I've been stuck with more questions than answers.

* * *

  
_Entry 250 - 1807_

  
Whatever it is with that box, it's been causing Mr. Grayson to become much, much worse. His skin is sickly pale now and the dark circles under his eyes are noticeable at first glance. Our latest show had to be cancelled due to his current condition. Mr. Grayson complained that he was just fine and that he had no problem with performing magic. He didn't react well when I told him that that wasn't the problem. The towns folk at our newest stop were afraid of him, I had seen the looks of fear and the constant murmuring the minute we stepped foot here.

  
_Entry 251_

  
I finally got some much needed answers from Mr. Grayson. Apparently the fear from the towns folk got through to him, I don't know for how long though. He told me that the box I found in his prop room was given to him by a stranger. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember much about her other than that her voice held a hint of darkness in it. She told him that the box was cursed and whoever came into possession of it would be cursed as well, unless they had the magical skill and strength to overcome it.

  
Mr. Grayson saw that as a direct challenge towards him and warned her that he was strong enough to overcome any "so-called curse". Striding up to her, he grabbed hold of the box and laughed when nothing immediately happened.  However, when he looked back at her, she had a look of evil delight on her face. He was suddenly hit by the feeling of dark magic overcoming him as she laughed in return. Falling to his knees in a weakened state, he demanded to know what was going on.

  
Just as she said, he had been cursed by the box. Cursed...and now she was free. The box, she said, is a conduit for an ancient demon. This demon gives its current guardian whatever they want at a price. That price includes keeping the box safe until it can one day escape into our world; in turn giving the guardian immortality whether they want it or not, at least until the box is passed to a new person as it was between the woman and Mr. Grayson.

  
Mr. Grayson believes that the demon has caused his current condition, as a way of entertaining itself. Honestly, I wouldn't expect any less from a creature such as that.

* * *

  
_Entry 252 - 1808_

  
It's...it's been an entire year. Mr. Grayson...he's long gone...because of me. In a moment of insanity, Mr. Grayson stabbed me with one of the knives he used as a prop. Several times over of being stabbed by my former mentor and the only person I had left in this world. I thought he was stronger-willed than that but I was wrong. He held the damn box in front of me, told me to become its new guardian so he could be free once more!

  
...It was either that or die of my wounds. All I felt at the moment was utter betrayal. My own mentor... Then I felt it, a burning rage inside of me, the thought of survival overcoming my mind. So I grabbed the box and proclaimed myself its new guardian. Immediately, I could feel the demon's presence...and the power it was offering me. This power was overwhelming!

  
Mr. Grayson didn't stand a chance against me... He had the nerve to beg me to let him go! To let him live after what he had just done! I...

  
I should have let him go, let him live the rest of his life in regret for what he had done. But I didn't, I couldn't!

* * *

  
_Entry 253 - 1809_

  
This journal is the last thing Bernard had left, the original journal was filled up years ago. Unfortunately, Bernard is no more. He survived the raid on Rivercrest only to fall victim to his savior years later. Quite a tragic end.

  
...Bernard is gone and in his place stands a mockery of who he once was. My name is Moarte, cursed to forever wander this life in regret. Mother... Father... If you're watching me from above... _please forgive me_.


End file.
